


I Used To See In Colour (but now you're gone and life is bleak)

by FrenchThing



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Soulmates AU, it's sad though, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9150502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchThing/pseuds/FrenchThing
Summary: The Colours had always been there. So had Merlin and Arthur's bond.Or the kind-of-but-not-really soulmate au from an ancient sentient entity's point of view no one asked for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year !  
> So, as a good way to start 2017, what better than a weird soulmate au ? I spent so long on this one and it's so, so good to finally see it finished. It's messy and very far from perfect and not exactly how I thought it would be, but sometimes the stories write themselves, right ? Again, I don't have any beta reader, so if you see any mistake please tell me, English can be a confusing language.  
> Hope you'll enjoy !

 

The Colours had always been there. Since the dawn of time, neither alive nor dead, nothing but entities vaguely aware of their own existence, sisters born from the Light, they were hidden from everyone’s eyes and only appeared when two linked souls met, disappearing as soon as the distance became too big. They were both everywhere and nowhere, lurking in the shadows and the silence before joining two beings united by Love and Destiny’s will. Witnesses of everything that had been and will be, they had seen countless lives meet, civilisations rise and fall, births, deaths, laughs and tears, too much for a simple human mind to even begin to imagine.  
Then, the Darkness ended up swallowing everything and they were out of hearts to bind, wandering without a purpose in the void. Inevitably, other worlds appeared and they became mortals. They who used to be the armed wing of Destiny became nothing but simple pawns in its designs, walking the same floor as the Humans they'd once looked upon. They lived everything they’d seen all those years ago, the births, the deaths, the wars, the tears and the laughs, the weight of their memories slowly smothering them. The youngest sister, tired of this burden, had one day the idea to tell what they’d seen. The Colours then started travelling, going from village to city, from city to capital and from capital to citadel, telling the Legends of the Old Times to those who were willing to hear them. Their stories were lost in the centuries, disappearing or fading into other tales and soon only one story remained, the saddest that they had ever told. People were never able to change it, to add or remove parts and characters, the tragedy of it making it too beautiful to alter.  
This is the way the littlest sister told the story, slightly hunched over as if she was telling a secret, children hung on her words and elders watching her with glistening eyes when she opened her mouth, her soft voice practically whispering the story of the Once and Future King and of the Warlock who stayed faithful to him until the very end.

A long, long time ago, in a kingdom where myths replaced reality and in a time where magic still existed, was a King. This King was a great and fair King, loved by his people and respected by his enemies, a King talked about in legends, painted in the fury of battle and whose life is sung by bards, a King with golden hair taken in his prime and betrayed by those he loved, as all Kings are. But before that, he had been a Prince, an arrogant and proud Prince who thought he was better than everyone else, a Prince who was afraid he wouldn’t be enough and who desperately tried to do what his father expected of him.  
Then, one day, arrived in the Kingdom a young man full of life, hair as dark as the night where he hid his secrets and blue eyes where shone an unfathomable power that would be both his salvation and his doom. His path was bound to cross the Prince’s without ever leaving it, their destinies and souls tightly intertwined. The Colours had waited a long time for them to meet, the strength of the bond between them fascinating the sisters. And yet, when the long awaited day arrived, the distance between the two men stayed too big for the Colours to invade their visions, leaving them incapable of doing anything. This lasted for some time, their bodies always a bit too far from each other. Meanwhile, a friendship was blooming between the two men who were completely unaware of the divine torment around them.

But as it always does, the inevitable happened. One morning, while the Sorcerer was fixing the Prince’s armour, their breaths blended and the black and white shades they’d known their whole lives let place to the vivid explosion tales talked about. Their eyes grew wide, ocean blue looking for answers in a sky blue, the same thoughts crossing their minds and telling them that whatever was happening at this moment was impossible, whereas their eyes and hearts screamed that it was. They stepped away sharply, as if the proximity had burnt them, their vision turning back to what it had always been, and tried to pretend that everything was normal.  
During the next few weeks, they tried in vain to forget what had happened, colourful landscapes and tangled bodies flooding their dreams. Their days were nothing but an endless stream of tiptoeing, careful hands on tensed shoulders and feelings growing terrifyingly fast. The more time passed, the more the two men felt the need to be close from one another, even when their heads told them to stop everything, that it was wrong and bad and all those things that don’t make sense to the minds in love. They tried to resist, knowing that the world would look down on them, that it wasn’t how these things are supposed to go. But Fate has little care of human ways, and the two men realised they couldn't fight the feelings growing deep down their hearts, and they soon surrendered to their intensity.

At first, everything was incredible, their love burning a fierce red, nights turning white and days shining a bright blue. They could almost feel like they were free to be who they were, basking in happiness and naively thinking that it would be alright ; but hope was a dangerous thing they couldn't afford to hold on to, its charming ways threatening to burn down their minds if it let them see a glimpse of what could have been in a better place.  
This was the way they had to love, a silent and cursed longing breaking their hearts in the sweetest manner, their eyes speaking the words their lips weren’t allowed to say, always close but not together. As they fell in the darkest hour of the night, when even the Colours wouldn’t see anything, they revelled in the passion that burned within them, painfully aware that they would have to hide it away as soon as the sunlight would shine on them but pretending to forget that detail for the time being. They were star-crossed lovers in the cruellest of ways, meant to be together but doomed to stay apart, always just a breath away from happiness. They were the almost that no heart can recover from, the what could have been that makes you cry after dreamed embraces.  
  
But good things don’t last, and they had to realise it one day or another. The hidden embraces weren’t enough anymore and they were becoming careless, their secret now there for everyone to see. They were on a cliff edge, the horizon looking more and more grim, dark clouds announcing the storm threatening to destroy them, and in a last act of madness they took a leap of faith, plunging towards the troubled sea. They knew they were on their downfall and were too exhausted to care, finding in each other a much needed feeling of home. Then, the King decided that this couldn’t last, and married a young woman as heartbroken as him in a silent promise that it wouldn’t mean anything. They were those who couldn’t have what they wanted the most, the golden thrones forever grey to their eyes.

And as a bad thing never comes alone, the betrayed, true to his nature, was betrayed again. Ghosts aren’t supposed to come back, but when they do it has consequences. He steeled his heart, telling himself that love has no place in war, and his colourful dreams were pushed aside to try and create a future where they could exist.

* * *

 

The storm had arrived. The clatter of steel and the smell of blood filled the air, the fighters moving in a deadly harmony, their swords a part of their body. The King himself was almost dancing as if possessed by some ancient warrior. His swordsmanship was even more impressive than usual as his weapon cut straight through the enemy lines, drops of blood flying around him, the grey skies trembling with thunder as if the gods themselves were helping him in his battle. And then...

An old friend. A stab. A gasp. A sharp pain, a last effort, a revenge, a regret, a sorry and then nothing. Nothing but the dark, empty void, a dull pull to reality subsisting behind a heavy curtain of numbness.

* * *

 

"I have magic", said the Sorcerer.

 _Liar liar liar, go away, liar,_ thought the King.

So that was the thing he couldn’t quite put his finger on. How fitting, really, that his only true friend would turn out to be what he had been taught to hate his entire life. It was wrong, and insane, and _how could he lie to him for this long_ , but in the end it finally made sense and maybe he could forgive - _of course_ he could.

* * *

 

"You're my friend and I don't want to lose you", said the Sorcerer.

 _I love you_ , thought the King.

The King knew that his life was coming to an end. He watched the Sorcerer restlessly trying, again and again, to save him, and felt his heart pull painfully knowing that this was the man he’d come to love, the man who had saved him in so many ways, the man he was going to break, the man he would leave alone. It was wrong and unfair and _how could Fate be this cruel_ , but he knew there was nothing he could do.

* * *

 

"Thank you", said the King.

 _I love you too_ , thought the Sorcerer.

The Colours were fading and the Sorcerer whispered a teary "stay with me", smiling as he saw his King's eyes open one last time, before closing for good. A cold feeling washed over him, panic flowing in his veins, as he screamed and tried in vain to bring his lover back, his pale face turning an ashy white and the blood looking black, as if they were under the moonlight. He rested his head against the other’s cold forehead, feeling the tears threatening to overcome him.

* * *

It was way harder than he’d thought. When the Dragon had told him that Arthur would come back, he’d thought that he’d be back a few years after the battle. But now, centuries later, he’d become a wreck, empty and devastated by hope and loss. He had nothing but his memories and an old promise that was already starting to feel like a farce to hold on to, his hold loosening as the years started to feel like days. He had sometimes trouble remembering his own name, the shadow of his King’s voice in his dreams being his only reminder of who he used to be. His nights were haunted by pale images of blond hair and blue eyes, nowhere as lively as they’d been. He was the man who belonged in the past, trapped in a time and in love with a man that weren't his. He kept on living, all the will he had to do so quietly leaving him the same way everything had, the Colours watching over him with a heart wrenching sadness but incapable to do anything else.  
He was barely human at this point, a still point in the ever moving world around him, more part of the Earth than of mankind, an uncanny hybrid between a ghost and a god. His incredible powers were wasting away, keeping him alive when all he wanted to do was rest and finally give in to the exhaustion that had invaded his entire body and become normal.

And then, ultimately, when the Darkness drowned everything, as the silence started to grow, he said his last words with a voice that hadn’t been used in decades, the sound sounding peculiar and foreign to his own ears, the whispered goodbye ringing violently in what was left of a broken word.

"You’re welcome", said the Sorcerer.

 _I love you more_ , thought the King.


End file.
